


Ghosts of You

by See_Kay_Write



Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: Gen, I'm not even sure where this came from, Post Reichenbach, tea fixes everything
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-03-21
Updated: 2012-03-21
Packaged: 2017-11-02 07:43:42
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 522
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/366603
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/See_Kay_Write/pseuds/See_Kay_Write
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>John's not sure now he doesn't believe in ghosts.  What could <i>possibly</i> explain this?</p>
            </blockquote>





	Ghosts of You

**Author's Note:**

  * For [PaxieAmor](https://archiveofourown.org/users/PaxieAmor/gifts).



“I lived with Sherlock.”

 

John feels like he needs that on a t-shirt sometimes.  He’s pretty sure there’s not that many other people that managed it, probably nobody that long, except for maybe Mycroft, and hardly anybody that would feel the need the boast about it.  A very one-of-a-kind t-shirt, then.

 

But he did live with Sherlock, and living with Sherlock gave him a very particular skill set that made him pretty sure he could live with just about anyone now (except maybe Harry.  Or Mycroft.) and do just fine.  Thing is, he really didn’t want to.

 

So, he didn’t.  Mrs. Hudson never seemed to have need for more than the half of the rent he found to give her (he suspected Mycroft’s influence) and he tried to keep living on as normal.  He may have been deluding himself about the normal part, just a bit, because he wasn’t about to add poison to the sugar bowl for nostalgia’s sake (and certainly not since he’d taken to having tea with Mrs. Hudson regularly).  He wonders when _that_ became normal.

 

He doesn’t find another roommate.  He knows that no one else could possible live up to that shadow and he’s not willing to find the energy to try.  He does consider moving out though.  He really doesn’t want to, but Sarah might be right with her hinting that it’s not quite the healthiest thing for him.  It’s just, things have gotten a bit odd lately, and in 221b Baker Street, that’s saying a lot.

 

It’s not anything major.  Things show up in the flat that he knows he didn’t put there, and Mrs. Hudson doesn’t know anything about it either.  Books, just one or two at a time, then gone again; small knickknacks, from places he’s never been, disappeared by the next morning.  He’s not sure he’s not imagining it.  Then it’s a library book he borrowed that Sherlock grabbed for an experiment and never returned; the thing is at least 8 months overdue (but there’s no fine, and the library says it’s been replaced already).  A sweater John thought he’d lost five months ago; that turns up on the back of his couch one morning.  There’s a newspaper article from Amsterdam, three days old, John sees it on the table and stares, but he’s running late and it’s gone when he gets home from work.  John’s not sure now he doesn’t believe in ghosts, because what could _possibly_ explain this?

 

Then it is something major, when he walks into the flat and finds Sherlock sitting in his chair, plucking randomly at the violin, like he’d only been out for an hour and not _dead for six months_ and then John’s flat on his back on the floor without really knowing how he got there.  Sherlock is leaning over him, worried, and he allows himself to be hauled to his feet.  Then _Sherlock_ is flat on his back, and John does know how he got there, thank you very much.  He pulls Sherlock up too though, pulls him into a hug, and then goes to the kitchen.

 

He needs some tea, damn it.


End file.
